


Still You

by bluecrownedmotmot



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Intimate relationship, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9191525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecrownedmotmot/pseuds/bluecrownedmotmot
Summary: Post pacifist ending, after roughly a year on the surface. Papyrus and Mettaton become friends. And then, gradually, become more than friends. That's all well and good, but it's increasingly clear that something's amiss with this timeline... Is it too late to change the course of fate?





	1. New Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Tags indicate current characters and content-related elements only. Be advised that I will add tags as I add chapters; please check the tags at each update to best ensure the work remains relevant to your interests.

“Alphys, who is CoolSkeleton95, again?”

“Um, Met-, uh, hey... Do you h-have to look at things from my account?”

“As if I even know my own password. I let my assistant maintain my account.”

“Is that poor guy still working for you?”

“Of course, darling. He's such a good sport,” Mettaton purred above Alphys' head, his voice languorous and bewitching. “But anyway, the guy with the car is...?”

“Papyrus.” Alphys glanced up, through the transparent plastic of the face shield she was wearing, at her robotic friend. His dark eyes were intent on her phone's screen, and his lips were pressed into a moue. “He's Undyne's best friend— other than me, of course! Uh, d-do you mind...”

“Mmm.” Mettaton wiped the sweat on her brow, beneath the shield, with the handkerchief in his left hand. He kept his right wrapped around his friend's phone.

Alphys finally took a brief break from the exposed wiring and tubing inside Mettaton's shapely thigh. She put down the tool she'd been holding and stretched her hand. “What's he up to, a-anyway?”

“Washing a nice car. If you're into _red_ , I suppose,” Mettaton drawled, as if suggesting that he'd like to make the preference of the color punishable by death.

“Oh, yeah, he's wanted one just like that for ages.”

Mettaton clicked dismissively with his metal tongue. “ _Pity_ , though,” he said. “One shouldn't wear such short shorts if one lacks the requisite meat on one's bones.”

Alphys ignored this remark and returned to the task at hand.

Mettaton was silent for a moment. “He was there the day the barrier was broken, wasn't he?” he said, lost in thought.

“Yep,” said Alphys. “You know, Papyrus was kind of in awe when you showed up! He's a big fan of yours.”

“Isn't everyone, Alphys?” The robot scrolled through a few more images. “Hmm. He's got an endearing smile, hasn't he?” Mettaton put down the phone beside where he sat on Alphys' work bench. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of his friend repairing his connections.

“Hey. Actually,” said Alphys, “You owe me a favor, don't you?”

“Darling, I owe you a million for making this body in the first place and a million more for maintaining me.”

“Papyrus was going to hang out with Undyne tomorrow night, but Undyne and I haven't seen each other all week. And, um, we k-k-kind of wanted some alone time? She doesn't want to cancel on Papyrus, but we don't want him to feel like a third wheel. If you're not busy, it'd be a huge favor if you came along. I, uh, think if you did basically anything you'd entertain him?”

“As I said, Alphys, anything for you. I'll need to check for conflicts, but off the top of my head, I believe I'm available. It's fabulous for public relations to spend time with the occasional fan.”

“A-awesome! Now, let's get you together and you'll be back to triple pirouettes in no time. Just, please, try not to do them off the edge of the stage this time.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Stop calling me that,” said Alphys testily. “I'm not a medical doctor.”

Mettaton opened his eyes and tilted his handsome head toward her. “You are to me,” he replied.

 

***

 

Undyne greeted Alphys and Mettaton at her front door and apologized for dinner being ready immediately.

“Seriously, I'm afraid to let my ratatouille cook any longer,” said Undyne. “Come in and go to the table _now_. I'll try to convince Papyrus to hurry up with his... Contribution.”

The two guests hung their coats on the rack by the door and made their way to the dining room. Undyne soon re-emerged from the kitchen, first with a casserole dish and then with a bottle of wine. Papyrus followed her bashfully on her second trip, with a fondue pot and a vase filled with uncooked angel hair pasta. He gingerly placed the pot atop its base and the vase in the center of the table.

“Hiya Alphys!” Papyrus chirped. “I hope you can appreciate this culinary experiment!”

“Hey Papyrus! Uh, wow, s-sure.”

Papyrus extended a mitten-clad hand to Mettaton. If he had had eyes in his eye sockets, they would have had stars in them. “It is an honor to officially meet you, Mettaton! I've been a fan for ages!”

Mettaton placed his gloved hand in Papyrus' palm. “Charmed.”

 

They took seats. Undyne served everyone (except the robot, who politely declined) ratatouille and they fell into lively conversation. Mettaton could not actually derive nourishment from typical monster food, but he was intrigued by the pasta fondue, which Papyrus, and only Papyrus, ate. The technique, as demonstrated by the skeleton, seemed to be to grab noodle bundles, whirl them in the bubbling marinara until flaccid on one end, and then carefully convey the half-cooked result into the mouth.

It was, quite literally, a hot mess. Mettaton had to try it himself.

Papyrus gave Mettaton numerous tactical tips, but Mettaton seemed to get sauce somewhere unexpected during every attempt. The robot started making exaggerated horrified faces, then striking small poses to cover his dismay, much like he would have on one of his older Underground shows. Papyrus laughed and even Mettaton began cracking up. They completely lost it when Mettaton wiped a tear of laughter from his eye with his napkin but inadvertently transferred a glob of tomato over his eyeshadow instead.

“Oh gosh!” Alphys scolded, breaking off what she had been saying to Undyne. “That's enough. Mettaton doesn't have enough room in his tray to pretend to eat any more. Undyne, you've got a compost pile out back, right?”

“His _what?_ But, uh yeah, sure do! That's how I grow the best vegetables!”

Performing an unintentional magic trick, Alphys pulled a small drawer full of spaghetti, from seemingly nowhere, out of Mettaton's side. She went out the back door to the garden without pause or further explanation. Undyne and Papyrus, speechless with mild shock, couldn't help but stare at the robot. Mettaton made a campy show of nonchalance, daintily refolding his napkin as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. Undyne snorted first, and they all lost it once more.

Alphys returned and replaced the clean and empty tray with a warning not to eat any more, Mettaton batted his eyelashes charmingly at her, and they wrapped up dinner.

 

“We were thinking of going on a romantic walk for a while,” announced Undyne, after everything had been cleared. There was a glint in her eye that implied that anyone inviting themselves along might be punched in the face. “Why don't you two get to know each other better?” She thrust the still mostly full bottle of wine from the table into Mettaton's hands.

“Certainly, dearest,” replied Mettaton. He strolled into Undyne's living room, turned to the skeleton, and beckoned Papyrus to have a seat across from him.

When the front door clicked shut, Mettaton surveyed his companion, who was wearing a rather bizarre but (Mettaton had to admit) daringly stylish baby blue track suit with a beret at a rakish angle on his skull. For whatever reason, he also had thin, knit mittens. Papyrus seemed excited but at a momentary loss for words.

“We should drink some more; here you are,” said Mettaton, telescoping his arms to pour them both wine without getting up.

“So!” began Papyrus, accepting his glass, “Already I know everything there is to know about you! Surely you must be curious to know about me, the mysterious and attractive Papyrus!”

Mettaton nodded politely and took a drink.

“I live with my brother, Sans; you remember him, right? He had a routine at your resort!”

“Yes, he doesn't have quite your stature and lithe figure, correct?” Mettaton cooed, recrossing his legs and relaxing against one side of the chair. Flirting with fans was a reflex for him.

Papyrus blushed but took the compliment in stride, accepting that his skeletal good looks were very obvious. “That's right! It's hard for me to imagine us not taking care of each other! I also work as a personal trainer and life coach up here now. It's satisfying to encourage my clients to reach their full potentials!”

“My impression is that you must be very good at that.”

“Yes!” said Papyrus, straightening up proudly. “It's one of my many talents, but truly I believe it to be one of my most legitimate.”

Mettaton chuckled, thinking about the state of Papyrus' cooking 'talent.' This failing didn't bother him in the slightest, since the robot couldn't truly appreciate food anyway, but the guy's forthright self confidence was amazing. _It probably rivals my own, and that is saying something_ , he thought to himself wryly.

“What's so funny?” wondered Papyrus.

“Nothing, sweetheart. You're just wonderful, that's all.”

They sipped their wine.

“You know,” said Papyrus, looking a bit downcast, “I don't really know if everyone thinks so. I mean, everyone does find me impressive I'm sure! However, my only true friends are Undyne, my brother, and the human who broke the barrier. And my brother is my brother and the human goes to school all day now, so they don't have much time for my puzzles. I know lots and lots of monsters and humans now, but it's not so easy to make real friends even when you're otherwise successful.”

Mettaton blinked. _He's certainly honest, isn't he?_

“Actually, my dear, I do know,” admitted Mettaton, after a moment's reflection, “I have legions of fans, but _my_ best friends are Alphys, Napstablook, and Shyren. I guess I do have a personal assistant and we, ummm... Generally get along well nowadays... But, my point is— you and I are fairly tied in the friendship-department, believe it or not.”

“Wowie. I _can't_ believe it! I would have thought you had a million friends!”

“I suppose there's a big difference between being popular and having true closeness with another person,” Mettaton sighed. This turn in the conversation had thrown off his calculated charm a bit. He drew a couple of shapes in the carpet with his heel until Papyrus was struck with sudden inspiration.

“Wait!” the skeleton shouted, “I've got it! We can be friends! With! Each! Other!”

Mettaton looked up at him blankly.

“I mean, maybe. It might be weird because you're my idol,” confessed Papyrus, suddenly shy.

“No, no, no, it's a marvelous idea, darling!”

“Really?”

“Mmmhmm,” Mettaton said through a mouthful of wine.

“Do you want... To play... SCRABBLE?” said Papyrus, wildly searching for a friendship-appropriate activity around the room and alighting on the box high atop Undyne's shelf.

Mettaton clapped his hands with delight.

 

After a long absence, Alphys and Undyne stumbled through the door laughing. The night sky had been gorgeous. They were so happy, it took them a few seconds to hear the slurred guffaws of Papyrus and the hysterical sentences Mettaton was struggling to finish. Alphys thought Mettaton sounded slightly buzzy. The girls rounded the corner into the living room.

“Shit, you two are _trashed,_ ” said Undyne, assessing the situation.

“That's putting it lightly,” said Alphys.

The floor was strewn with letter pieces, shredded tissue paper, various boots from Undyne's hall closet, monopoly money, a spatula, and a colander. The Scrabble game board itself had many words intersecting, but at some point things had devolved and silly phrases had been incorporated, some spilling out onto the carpet.

“Wow. Lightweights,” grumbled Undyne, picking up the single wine bottle the two had polished off. “How the hell is _Mettaton_ drunk? How does _that_ work?”

“We're frieeendsssssss now, you don't understaaaaaaaand,” moaned Mettaton from facedown on the floor.

“Well, he's not _really_ drunk,” explained Alphys, trying not to smile. “It's a glitch with his sensory wiring when that compartment is full with liquid that I can't quite figure out how to fix. I wanted to make him able to feel full, so he'd know when to stop, but it just makes his perception faulty. Can you help me get him to the bathroom, baby?”

Undyne fireman-carried the limp robot to the bathroom, and they maneuvered him in front of the toilet. “Ugh.. I take the 'lightweight' comment back.”

“I _heaarrd_ that,” said Mettaton.

“S-see, if I pulled out the compartment now like I did before, because it's liquid, it would make a big mess, right? I did give him a function for this situation though! Check this out,” said Alphys, searching for a protected switch with one hand while pulling Mettaton's hair away from his face. When she found it, he expelled the wine with several heaves.

“That's HILARIOUS. You're brilliant, Alphys.”

“...You're a pal, Alphys,” managed Mettaton, sounding exhausted. “I didn't know I had this particular function.”

“Congratulations?”

“This _sucks._ ”

“Y-yeah, sorry.”

“Is this _truly_ that amusing?” said Mettaton to Undyne. She sat down on the tile floor, giggling.

“It is,” she said.

“Your girlfriend,” Mettaton said primly to Alphys, “Is terrible.”

This made Undyne laugh even more. Mettaton smiled slightly in spite of himself.

“You're almost out of battery,” said Alphys. She captured a stray lock of Mettaton's hair with her claw. They could hear a snore from Papyrus from the next room. Mettaton threw up the last of the wine into the toilet. “But don't sweat it,” she continued, “Isn't this what friends are for?”

 

Mettaton returned to consciousness in Undyne's guest room, slumped over in a desk chair and plugged into the wall. He had completely lost power shortly after the bathroom incident. Now the sky outside was lightening. He was entirely recharged, so he pulled his plug and stood. He took a moment to assess himself. He felt fabulous. As per usual. He looked around, blinking in the dim light.

The first thing that caught his eye was his own figure, reflected in a full length mirror.

A tall, comely figure with dramatic shoulders, roguish black hair, and lissome limbs. Nearly human in appearance, but not exactly. Really a monster, hiding in a metal shape.

 _It's you!_ exclaimed a voice in his own mind.

He shook his head. _Who else_ would _it be, stupid?_

He tore his eyes away from himself. It was difficult. Always was.

The second thing he noticed was Papyrus.

Papyrus was tucked into the twin bed on the opposite side of the room. There was a glass of water and a plate with two pills and a note beside the bed. Mettaton walked over and picked up the note. It read:

> **Hey buddy. Take these when you wake up! You're gonna need 'em.**
> 
> **Love, Undyne ( & Alphys)**
> 
> **PS, knock on the door if you need us, but we stayed up super late.**
> 
> **Try to let us sleep in!**

Mettaton glanced at Papyrus. He walked back, pulled the chair across the carpet, and set it up beside the bed.

“Nyehhhhhhhh,” said Papyrus dully.

“Good morning, darling,” whispered Mettaton.

Papyrus dimly registered Mettaton next to him. “Where...”

“Here, take these. The ladies left them for you. And here's some water.”

The skeleton swallowed the pills and drank down the entire glass. Mettaton wondered where it all went, but as a creature made of metal and magic, he supposed he wasn't entitled to question this. Papyrus limply handed the glass back to Mettaton.

“I'll fill this if you'll be wanting more. Be right back.”

 

Papyrus was more awake, though rough around the edges, when he returned. Mettaton gave him the glass again, and this time he took just one substantial sip before passing it back.

“Are you okay?” inquired Papyrus, in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

“Darling, I'm a robot.” Mettaton took a seat on the chair. “I don't get hungover, I just malfunction in certain conditions.” Papyrus turned his face toward the ceiling, patiently waiting for his headache to fade. Mettaton found himself wondering what it was like to feel sick in a lingering way. His own maladies were usually acute and generally self-inflicted. He put a glove lightly against Papyrus' forehead. He was as cool and as dry as a bone.

“Sans does that when I'm not feeling well. I have no idea why.”

Mettaton chuckled.

“Your hand is warmer than his ever is. It feels nice right now,” said Papyrus.

“Then I'll leave it there for the time being.”

They spoke about Alphys and Undyne, and Papyrus gradually perked up as time passed. Mettaton told him a story about Alphys agonizing over a drawing she made for Undyne, and he described vividly how adorable Undyne's crushing embrace was when she finally received it.

“I think they're cute together, too,” said Papyrus, “Inescapably cute.” He was still and silent for a while. He picked up Mettaton's hand from his head and held it between them. “Well, I can't entirely remember the last few moments of yesterday, but we must be friends now if we had that much fun.”

“I think you're right,” replied Mettaton, with a smile.

 

***

 

A couple of days later, on an impulse, Mettaton dialed Papyrus' phone number. At some point while wasted, they had traded contact info. Mettaton was surprised by his own actions. He rarely gave out his personal number. Especially recently... After quite a few rings, Papyrus answered.

“Wowie! An actual call from Mettaton! So soon! You must be very excited about our budding friendship!” yelled Papyrus giddily into the phone, instead of saying 'hello.'

“Hi,” said Mettaton, feeling like an idiot. He was, however, relieved that Papyrus was so clearly enthusiastic to hear from him. _Of course, you're a star. Anyone would react the same way..._

“ _Hiii_. You have a wonderful phone voice. I was just vacuuming the house. It's a very important task, because I'm the only one around here who understands how to do it, but I will take a break. That's how good of a friend I am,” said Papyrus, chattily.

“Do I? Thank you,” said Mettaton. He wasn't sure how to respond to Papyrus, and he was confused as to why he felt quite so flummoxed. Surely he was accustomed to pushing through just about anything, talking to anyone. He made himself continue. “So, darling. The reason I was calling. Do you want to... Plan on getting together? I'd like to know my new friend better.”

“Oh boy! That's a great idea!”

“Yeah. What might you like to do, Papyrus?”

“It's fall. Let's go apple picking!”

“Apple picking,” repeated Mettaton, uncertainly.

“Yeah! They just grow on trees up here! Can you believe it?”

Mettaton laughed. “Yeah, that's wild. But, um, aren't there people who pick them as their job? What's the point of us doing it?”

“It's fun,” explained Papyrus. “But I've never done it before. So it's only supposedly fun at this point. We can test it out. Then, no matter how it goes, we'll have something to talk about!”

 _Can't argue with that, can you? After all, you just wanted an excuse to hang out._ “Okay, we'll go apple picking,” Mettaton said agreeably. “So, we go to a farm or whatever you call it-”

“Oh,” interrupted Papyrus. “The huge war memorial park downtown has apple trees. Let's just pick those.”

Mettaton grinned. “Wouldn't it be more festive to go to an, oh, orchard, that's what they're called?”

“It's easier to get to the park,” said Papyrus, practically. “The trees are on the east side of the lake.”

They set a time to meet by the lake. Mettaton was shaking his head when he hung up the phone. Papyrus was bizarre. But in an entertaining way.

 

***

 

After rehearsal, Mettaton stopped to say goodbye to his bandmates.

“You're going apple picking today?” said Shyren skeptically. “ _You_?”

“Don't friendship-activity shame me, Shyren,” retorted Mettaton.

“Can you even _walk_ on dirt in those heels?” the little monster crowed.

“Fuck,” groaned Mettaton. “I don't have time to switch my legs out. I'm just walking to the park from here.”

“Even if you did, can you walk in flats?”

“Let's not discuss it. It's not pretty.”

“Well, good luck,” laughed Shyren, flitting around her dressing room. “I think it's nice you made a new friend.”

He continued on, to his cousin's dressing room.

“Blooky, darling?”

“Hi.”

Mettaton stuck his head into Napstablook's space. The room was completely bare. The ghost was on the floor.

“I'm off to the park with Papyrus, Blooky.”

“Oh! Have fun, Mettaton.”

“Thanks, honey. I'm nervous.”

“ _You?_ Why?”

“I've no idea.” Mettaton pulled at his coat collar, ensuring it was even. “When was the last time I made a new friend? Alphys, it must have been. That was quite a while ago now, wasn't it? I'm just deplorable at the whole business. Anyway, ciao, darling.”

“Bye, Mettaton. You'll be fine.”

 

Mettaton strolled down the park path, in a long coat and sunglasses. Papyrus saw him immediately. This particular area was empty. _Mercifully_ empty, because Papyrus screamed his name when he saw the robot.

“Hush, my dear. I'm in disguise,” said Mettaton, lowering his glasses. The corner of his mouth twitched in a vain attempt to maintain composure and poise.

“Oh, sorry,” stage-whispered Papyrus. “Do people not recognize you when you're wearing clothes?”

Mettaton snickered, not able to help himself any longer. All worries dissipated from his mind. “...Wearing clothes? I'm always wearing clothes. But you'd be surprised, darling. The shades go a long way.”

“Oh, that makes sense. I am way cooler in sunglasses, myself,” said Papyrus. He took some cheap, plastic-framed shades from his pocket and lowered them onto his grinning face. When he let go, they immediately fell to the grass; he had neither nose nor ears to keep them in place.

“Oh my god,” managed Mettaton, trying to stifle further laughter with the back of his hand.

“Ha! Just teasing you,” said Papyrus, scooping the frames up and setting them on his face again. This time, they rested where they should when he took his hand away with a flourish. He could, of course, hold them up with magic.

“They do look rather nice on you,” said Mettaton, once he could trust himself not to giggle any more. “Where are these apples, my dear?”

“Over there,” said Papyrus, pointing.

Mettaton studied the amount of grass he'd have to traverse to get to the trees. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Huh?”

“I'll get there. Let's go.”

 

Numerous holes in the soil later, they were both picking apples. Mettaton was very useful, despite having to make sure he kept his weight on the balls of his feet, because he could extend his arms to almost anything on the trees.

“So. What will you do with these?” inquired Mettaton.

“Ahhh... Yes...” said Papyrus.

“Darling. You did think about this beforehand, didn't you?” said Mettaton, biting his lip, smiling helplessly anyway.

“Not really?!” Papyrus tossed apples into his canvas bag, giving Mettaton a winning skeletal grin.

“Oh my goodness. You're adorable,” said Mettaton, swooning. Papyrus caught him as he leaned backward, and pushed the robot gallantly back onto his toes.

“Yes, well. Applesauce? How about that?”

“Sounds great, my dear. Shall we try one?” Mettaton took an experimental bite from an apple. He recoiled without swallowing when he got a taste of juice. “Oh my god. Sour. Maybe they'll be better with some cooking. And magic.” He levitated the apple off his palm and zapped it with electricity. “A lot of magic.” He took several strides away from Papyrus, turned, and flicked his wrist to toss the apple, without touching it, to the skeleton.

Papyrus caught it, but passed it quickly from one of his red-gloved hands to the next. “Hot!”

“Oops,” said Mettaton, touching his fingers to his lips.

 

After the bag had been filled, the two monsters sat in a sunny patch on the grass and looked at the lake. Mettaton hugged his knees to his chest. Papyrus lounged with his bony legs out, prattling cheerfully away.

 _Despite being starstruck at first, he doesn't seem very intimidated. Why is that?_ thought Mettaton. The robot was accustomed to people acting shy or head-over-heels in love with him. _I wonder if he thinks I'm all that interesting. He's a little odd, but I suppose that's charming. Why am_ I _so interested in him?_

“...So what did you most look forward to on the surface?” said Papyrus.

“Huh?” Mettaton forced himself to mentally replay what he'd just been asked. “Oh, um. Humans definitely. It's a much larger audience with my human fans. A lot of them are such sweethearts. But some of them can be... Vicious. Monsters are much more empathetic, I realize now. And there's a lot of competition up here. So it's not quite how I imagined.”

“Oh. Is it hard?”

“Being me?” Mettaton smirked. “It's fantastic.” He rested his chin on knee. “But I thought I'd be... Understood. I thought there would be so many people around me. Now it's like there's more of a barrier between me and everyone else.”

“I'm talking to you! And I'm understanding you right now!” said Papyrus.

Mettaton gave Papyrus a long look.

Papyrus blithely touched his gloved fingertips to the top of Mettaton's hand. “See?” He grinned and put his hand back down into the grass. “No barrier whatsoever!”

 _He makes me feel strange,_ realized Mettaton _._ He shook off the feeling as best he could. “I didn't mean literally,” Mettaton said, with a hint of derision in his voice that he hadn't intended to be there.

“Oh.” Papyrus turned his attention back to the sparkling lake.

Mettaton watched the other monster carefully. The skeleton didn't seem to have taken Mettaton's tone personally at all. _Being impervious to insults is a rather fortunate quality to possess when you're friends with me_ , thought Mettaton, with growing relief. And a growing sense of perhaps... Admiration? Fondness? He had to respect Papyrus' optimism. Then again, perhaps Papyrus was just a little dense. _But maybe..._ “But maybe you're right,” Mettaton continued tentatively.

Papyrus turned his head back to Mettaton. “Of course I am!” he replied happily.


	2. Do You Want It to Be a Date?

Papyrus often found himself daydreaming about his new companion. How exciting that such a desirable person as _Mettaton_ really wanted to spend time with him! Not that the great Papyrus himself wasn't awesome! But this famous friend was objectively amazing.

 _Let's see,_ thought Papyrus, as he sprawled out on the living room carpet, preparing to once again count the ways that Mettaton was magnificent. _He's talented, he's dramatic, he likes to have fun..._

Mettaton could carry on fascinating conversations, tell stories for hours, joke around playfully. He was driven and enthusiastic. Papyrus could appreciate this; he too had hopes and dreams, motivation to achieve them. And it wasn't just that Papyrus held Mettaton in high esteem. The robot seemed genuinely curious to hear what Papyrus had to say. Sometimes Papyrus felt like he listened to a lot of people, motivated them tirelessly... But even Sans' eyesockets glazed over from time to time when Papyrus was overly excited about something. Yet Mettaton appeared to find the skeleton amusing, engaging, worthy of his attention. Papyrus sighed. _Wowie, to be friends like that with a star! It's too good to be true._

 

Papyrus sat up. It was his turn to call Mettaton, and why not do it now? Papyrus had the house to himself, which was perfect; he didn't want Sans to be around. He needed to be able to concentrate on being confident, suave, _cool_. Papyrus reached for the phone with a skeletal hand and dialed.

“Hello Mettaton!” said Papyrus, in his smoothest voice, when Mettaton picked up.

“Hello, my dear,” said Mettaton.

“Do you have time to talk?”

“Well, quite honestly, no. I'm backstage-”

“Oh! Sorry!” Papyrus yawped, forgetting entirely about being cool, “I didn't think ab-”

“No, no, wait. I want to talk with you, very much. As a matter of fact, I was feeling a little lonely. I just will need to go very soon. How are you today?”

Papyrus told Mettaton all about his day. “And how was your day?”

“Mine has but recently begun, love,” purred Mettaton. “As I said, I'm waiting to go on... Alone in my dressing room...”

“Oooh! What are you wearing?” Papyrus heard stifled giggles from Mettaton's side of the conversation. “What's so funny?”

“Mmm, hmhmhm, I just find that an _interesting_ question,” Mettaton said, somehow getting a hold of himself. “I'm wearing a purple robe. Some lace, some tulle, a long train that drags along the ground. Beautiful onstage.”

“Nice.”

“It's transparent.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that seems like a pointless quality in an article of clothing!”

Mettaton laughed. “You would _think_ so darling, but perhaps if you saw it in person- Oh, hold on.” Papyrus heard muffled conversation, Mettaton thanking someone, before the robot came back. “Um, I have five minutes.”

“That's okay,” said Papyrus warmly. “Have a good show.”

There was a long pause. When Mettaton finally spoke again, he sounded quite weary. “I don't know if I can do this.”

“Do what? Have a good show?”

“Nooo, not that... Get to know you. Let you get to know me. How can I explain?” Mettaton sighed. “I'm sorry Papyrus. You're so sweet. I really do like you a lot. But, you know, I feel like perhaps I can't be a very good friend. I'm so busy. I'm exhausted all of the time...”

Papyrus' grip on the phone tightened. He spoke without hesitation. “I like you, too! I've been thinking about you all day! Do you think you're not good enough to be my friend?”

“Uh,” said Mettaton, taken aback. “Well. You do- Oh... Maybe."

"You're fine," said Papyrus simply.

Mettaton clicked his teeth together twice. "Am I?" he mused. "You know what? You're right. I'm making excuses. I... Forget it. We'll have to do something again soon. _Fuck_ , I have so many performances coming up... But listen, I'll figure something out. I promise. Sound satisfactory, darling?”

“Yes!” said Papyrus happily.

“'Bye for now, Papyrus.”

“'Bye!”

 

Papyrus jogged around the living room. He jumped on the couch for a while, then lay down, grabbing a pillow and hugging it. He had managed to say all the right things! Even when Mettaton had been concerned! He'd handled it! They were still friends!

Papyrus released the pillow. But what if Mettaton never called back? He'd had a moment of doubt, after all... What had that been about, anyway? He shook his skull. No matter! Papyrus did not worry!

 _I just have to be patient,_ he resolved sensibly. He threw the pillow in the air, and caught it a few times, until he bounced it off the ceiling and it came down off-course, bumping the shade of a lamp askew.

“Poison parsnips!” he exclaimed aloud to himself, “I don't know why you're so wound up.” He turned on the TV and flipped through channels.

Wait! Go back! A re-run of Mettaton's show was on!

Papyrus had already seen it, but he watched it again with new eyes. Mettaton was in his older form, of course; this had originally aired Underground a long time ago. He studied the robot carefully during the entire episode, watching arm movements, listening to the metallic voice. Mettaton had a more natural vocal quality in his humanoid body, but his pitch, enunciation, and speaking cadence were the same back then.

The skeleton found himself grinning as the show progressed. Mettaton was so funny in this!

 

Papyrus wondered, not actually for the first time, what it was like to hug a robot. He'd fantasized about Mettaton before... He was a celebrity after all. Didn't everyone want to get close to their favorite stars? He was probably very solid. But was he warm or cold? Would he hug back, with feeling, or be cool and aloof? Did his voice sound just as nice when he was right against you?

He'd considered all these variables when he couldn't fall asleep right away. And then he'd tended to want to do things that he did while alone in bed...

Papyrus felt a little sheepish about how obsessed he was with Mettaton. He'd really enjoyed him before, but now even hanging out with him didn't seem quite like enough. He'd even felt _jumpy_ somehow, when Mettaton had spoken softly into the phone. How weird? How frustrating!

“Now, calm down and forget it or I'll need to send you to bed early tonight,” said Papyrus, loudly berating himself to the empty house. He marched off to do something productive. That would do the trick. He'd change the oil in his car.

 _I wonder,_ thought Papyrus, _does Mettaton need oil t-_

“Confound it all! Stop thinking about Mettaton!” screamed Papyrus, clutching his skull for a moment before throwing open the door to the garage.

 

***

 

After the show, Mettaton paced around his dressing room.

 _What is_ wrong _with you?_

He'd been late for one of his entrances tonight. But that wasn't really what was bothering him.

Mettaton, perversely, felt compelled to let the whole thing with Papyrus die. Not because he wanted to.

No. That wasn't it at all.

He just didn't trust himself. He preferred to have distance and detachment. He had to focus on _Mettaton_ , spend his time relentlessly improving, creating, memorizing, traveling...

He didn't have _time_ for _feeling anything_.

He stopped in his tracks. Not quite true. Of course he felt things for his fans. And he loved his friends. He was motivated by all of them, really. In fact, what he really wanted to do, at the very heart of matters, was to make things for them, construct his own world to amuse and protect them.

But, of course, maybe he was just trying to protect himself. Was that right?

_Darling. Let yourself have one more friend. One you might be honest with..._

He reached out to slide his finger around the top of an apple he'd kept on his counter since their excursion to the park.

_Ahh... But what will you do with this one?_

He pressed against the taut skin with his fingers. He wanted to possess Papyrus.

_And what will you tell this one?_

He took his hand away abruptly. But this did nothing to abate the insatiable pull...

 _So go along with it,_ he thought, eyeing himself in his mirror. He looked feral, strange, eyeliner slightly melted down his face from hours under the lights. _Do what you want._

He left the room, making his way to the box office.

 

***

 

Papyrus was elated to receive a glittering envelope in his very own mailbox a few days later. When he was back inside the house, he held the letter up to an eyesocket. He could make out silver specks embedded in the stationary itself. Although eager, he pried the flap up carefully. Inside, there was a “ **METTATON LIVE featuring DJ SPOOKTUNE and SHYREN** ” concert ticket. Next, a pass to get backstage with Papyrus' name on it. And behind these, a handwritten cursive note, on a flat card from the same sparkly stationary set, read in pink ink:

> **Papyrus,**
> 
> **Darling, come back to my dressing room after the show.**
> 
> **I'll take you shopping at this wonderful little place. I'm sure you'll love it.**
> 
> **Your new friend,**
> 
> _**MTT** _

Papyrus cavorted around the living room making excited skeleton noises.

“Bro, please stop screeching. You are making my ear bones rattle,” said Sans, from the couch, after several minutes, “Are you excited about a great new introductory rate prepared just for you again?”

“Even better!” said Papyrus. “Mettaton has invited me to his show! Then we're going shopping!”

“Mettaton? Oh yeah, that TV show guy you've been obsessed with forever. How could I forget. We even... _met a ton_ of times.”

“Sans!”

“Just kidding. I know exactly who he is. And we only met a couple times at his resort.”

“I've got to call Undyne!”

“Knock yourself out,” said Sans absently, propping up his chin with his arm as he watched an episode of a space-western anime, one which had aired at least four times already, that he had seen, since moving to the surface. The show was interrupted by the local news, to play a brief clip about a missing college student.

“Humans are depressing,” remarked Sans, yawning. To no-one, as it turned out, because Papyrus had already left the room.

 

***

 

Papyrus was reluctant to tear himself away from what turned out to be an incredible concert. But, dutifully, he worked his way out of the crowd at the beginning of the last encore song and ran to the parking garage. Mettaton had called earlier and he'd recited the set list for the evening so that Papyrus could prepare to head backstage before fans found their way to various stage doors.

Papyrus carefully picked up a gigantic vase of pink and orange flowers. Earlier, Undyne had helped him select this gift. She'd also made time after she got out of work to calm him down over tea at a cafe. Papyrus wouldn't have picked it himself. In all honesty, he struggled with gift giving, but he had to admit Undyne was right; it reminded him completely of MTT. The tropical bouquet was breathtaking, featuring bold false birds-of-paradise and an angular heliconia that the florist told them was a variety called “Sexy Pink” suspended over the top on a thick stalk. Undyne was brilliant. And very helpful! She had said to Papyrus before they parted that she hoped they had a great time but emphasized for him to remember his phone and to call her for any reason if anything worried him. He thought that was a bit of a strange thing to say, but she really was a great friend!

Papyrus showed his pass (to his surprise, the guard at this door happened to be Dogessa) and slipped backstage just as applause thundered through the building.

 

***

 

Of the group of monster friends, Undyne's house was farthest out, on the very outskirts of the city, in a residential section bordering on peaceful, undeveloped areas. As much as she liked spending time in the center of the city, she also very much appreciated taking advantage of open space. Especially with her girlfriend.

From where they sat, in the field just a short walk from the house, Alphys looked up at the night sky. Undyne had her arm firmly around Alphys; they had been chatting for a while and it was cold. They would either have to head back or get much closer soon. The conversation had worked its way to the subject of Mettaton and Papyrus.

“I can't believe how nice Mettaton is being,” said Alphys. “I mean, I like him, but he can be a _huge_ jerkass most of the time. I guess I can see why they enjoy each other? But I didn't anticipate it.”

Undyne gave her girlfriend a sly, toothy grin. “So... You're telling me you ship it now, Alphy?”

“Uhhhhh... Kinda?” Alphys said guiltily. “Mettaton's been sort of morose in private lately, so I'm pulling for something to cheer him up.”

“Ha. Papyrus has had a massive celeb crush on the guy since his first TV shows. So I guess this isn't out of nowhere.” Undyne rubbed Alphys' sweater-covered arm to warm her. “Do you really think they're going to get romantic though? I couldn't actually tell with Paps exactly what MTT's appeal to him was. He gets worked up about friendship as is, who knows if there's anything else to it? Besides, can they actually _do_ anything together...? You know what I mean. _Physically._ ”

“W-well, of c-course I don't know much about sk-skeletons but, um, M-Mettaton, yeah, about that,” said Alphys tapping her claws together, skipping blushing red and proceeding straight to a shade of violet.

Undyne's hand suddenly came to rest. “ALPHYS. ALPHYS.”

“Y-yes?” Alphys peered out of the top of her glasses at her girlfriend reluctantly.

“You did not!”

“Undyne, he _made me_ , it was part of the stipulations. Besides,” she said, recovering her composure (Undyne was now laughing uncontrollably) and assuming a nerdy leer, “Are you implying _I_ would build a robot you couldn't fuck?”

“ALPHYS, ha ha ha ha, _I can't breathe._ ”

“He'd better not break anything down there,” worried Alphys, “It'd be even more awkward now. Not that it wasn't a little weird before... That's literally why it took me so long to complete EX. Well that and optimizing the battery life. But, uh, so anyway, th-things in the lower body vicinity were complicated and it was making me feel perverted, uh, more than t-typical that is, every time I got to work. Ha ha?”

“ALPHYS, ha ha... Thaaaaat was way more than I ever wanted to know. But wow, he owes you big time. I've gotta keep my phone on in case Papyrus calls, but let's do something that takes that image out of my mind, shall we?” With that, Undyne pulled Alphys close.

Alphys removed her glasses and waggled her eyebrows.

 

***

 

Mettaton covered his mouth with his hands when he saw Papyrus' gift and hopped with glee.

“Darling! I love it!” He took the arrangement in his arms. _How thoughtful!_

Mettaton pushed his dressing room door open with the ball of his booted foot and saw, almost too late, a blur of white from the corner of his eye. “Nuh uh, no you don't!” He blocked a small white dog, trotting up out of nowhere, from entering with his toe. “I swear I keep seeing this thing lurking around every evening. I've no idea what it wants; I don't keep any food in there. Darling, the light switch is on the wall inside to the left.”

When Papyrus flipped the switch, he was stunned by the amount of flowers in every shade arranged on available surfaces and of letters framing the mirror.

“We're sold out here for two weeks straight and we'll probably get an extension,” Mettaton continued. “It's touching that we're so popular in our own city. This particular theatre is our second home, really. We practice here when we're not traveling. As you can see, I get a lot of flowers, these are just my recent favorites, but I'm taking yours home, I adore them so. Let me just get out of this get-up, and we'll leave. How did you get here? My assistant can take us to our next destination, but I can also give him the night off and give you directions?”

“It would be an honor to drive you, Mettaton!” replied Papyrus.

“That settles it!” said Mettaton. He touched his phone a few times, setting it on speaker, and they listened as it rang several times before being picked up. “Darling!”

After a short pause there was a lackluster response. “...Yeah?”

“You have the night off, sweetheart. As a matter of fact, take my car tonight, if you want it.”

“...Is this a joke, sir?”

“Not this time, darling. Go home right away.”

“Thank you, sir.” There was the sound of the open line for a moment, and then a sarcastic, “Oh wonderful, my lord. I will relish a night off from having to lick your boots-”

Mettaton grinned. “Hmm, Burgerpants, I thought you enjoyed licking them?”

“F- Uhhh... This _stupid_ phone never hangs up if I tap it with a claw, sir, ha ha, sorry, have a great evening...”

“My _pet_ , I'm in a great mood tonight. I'll let that one slide. Leave now and if I hear from you about absolutely anything this evening, you're fired!” Mettaton winked at Papyrus and hung up. He unbuttoned his silver sequined jacket. “I just adore messing with that kid, he's so high strung it's cute...”

Papyrus read some of Mettaton's taped up fan mail and chuckled at particularly ridiculous specimens while Mettaton sat down to wipe glittery stage makeup from his face. When he was done with that, he ran a comb with great concern through his flawless, unruffled hair. At last, the robot pulled his long coat off the hook, plucked his sunglasses from a pocket, and threw his bag over his shoulder.

“I'm ready, darling!” Mettaton announced. “Let me lead the way; there's a secret door I leave from. Also, I'll introduce you to Blooky and Shyren on the way out. Bring your flowers, would you?”

 

A short time later, Papyrus opened the passenger door of his sparkling convertible. Mettaton pranced in, and Papyrus shut the door, wedging the vase, once again, behind the seats before hopping into the driver's seat. They took off without arousing any attention.

On the highway, Mettaton removed the sunglasses and relaxed, enjoying the wind through his hair. Despite the flashy car, Mettaton observed that Papyrus was probably the safest, most sensible driver on the road. The skeleton was striking at the wheel, a long scarf wrapped securely around his thin neck, the ends unfurling and flapping behind him. Of course, it was a completely inappropriate temperature to have the top down, but as skeletons and robots were more resistant to cold than most, and this particular skeleton and this particular robot were especially devoted to aesthetics and style at all costs, the top was down.

“I'm sorry to make you drive a few towns over, my dear,” said Mettaton, “but I'm less likely to get recognized after a performance this way. I've been a little paranoid lately, I suppose. But the place does stay open particularly late.”

“I don't mind at all!” said Papyrus. “It's great to hang out with you like this. I'm so happy we're friends now.”

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Boy, did I ever! My favorite part was 'Smooching Ghosts!' The dance you did was really impressive.”

“Goodness, I'm pleased that was your favorite,” said Mettaton, genuinely touched, “I watched lyrical dance videos for months and choreographed that myself. I think Blooky, Shyren, and I really nailed our timing on that one tonight. Glad you were out there.”

He turned away from Papyrus for a moment and tucked his chin into his shoulder thoughtfully. Papyrus didn't notice because his eyes were on the road, but when he glanced over briefly, he hoped nothing was wrong.

“Are you tired? You were incredibly energetic up there!”

Mettaton turned his head back and replied cheerfully, “No, I charge up during Blooky's set, actually, so I'm rested for the final number and the encore. I can go for the entire thing after Alphys improved EX's energy efficiency anyway, but it helps me feel great when I'm done.”

“I wanted to ask...”

“Mmm?”

“I never understood... When you fought Frisk live on TV, you revealed your new body and you showed you had a soul. How does a robot have a soul?”

Mettaton looked at the moon and stars above, seemingly still in the heavens, as the car ran through the darkness.

> **_A long time ago monsters would whisper their wishes to the stars in the sky._ **

Words from the walls of Waterfall, read many times; here and now, Mettaton realized he could wish upon the real thing...

Papyrus waited and when it seemed like no answer would come, he elaborated. “You don't have to tell me. But you do have a soul, don't you? It wasn't just an illusion.”

“Yes... I do. Listen, only my closest friends know this. Alphys, Blooky, and Shyren. And Undyne, now that she and Alphys are dating. But that's it.”

“Wowie! I love secrets!” said Papyrus.

“Somehow, your _yelling_ that doesn't inspire confidence, darling,” said Mettaton, smiling.

“We're in a convertible! I must yell to be heard.”

“Yeah, but _I'm_ not shouting and you can hear me.”

“What?”

“What?”

“WHAT?” Papyrus dropped his voice to a reasonable volume. “I won't tell.”

Mettaton wondered, for an instant, how much of the skeleton's bluster was an act. “I'm not entirely a robot. Blooky is my cousin, so naturally I'm...” He took a deep breath. “A ghost.”

“Oh. Huh.”

 _Why are you telling him this?_ Mettaton wondered. There was no reason he had to, really. “Do you mind that?”

“Not at all.” Papyrus considered the implications of this. He looked at Mettaton again. The robot's face had not a trace of concern, yet his hands were tense over his knees. Papyrus moved his his jawbone from side to side. “So you _are_ a monster,” he remarked. “Same as me. And you weren't programmed to be star.”

“No,” said Mettaton. “But I'd hoped somehow I could be one." His lip curled. "I suppose I succeeded.”

"Oh," said Papyrus, realizing something else. “You must have befriended Alphys _before_ you became the Mettaton everyone knows and loves.”

“The Mettaton everyone knows and loves... Yes. You see,” continued Mettaton, feeling compelled to keep talking if he was bothering to say this in the first place, “I always felt that I should be essentially like this, so when Alphys offered me the chance to design the look of a body, my dreams came true. The story out there for the general public is that I have an artificial mind that Alphys programmed, but the reality is that behind the scenes she wanted to impress Asgore, show that she could house a natural soul in an artificial body. My soul was just naturally able to possess an object. I'm only impressive from a mechanical perspective. Alphys is brilliant at that part.” Mettaton paused for a moment. He realized he'd been digging his fingers into his leggings. He frowned, releasing the wrinkles he'd gathered, and the black latex snapped back into place. “I'm still who I always was. I just fit now.”

“You weren't happy as a rectangle?” Papyrus asked, thinking of the re-run he'd watched earlier.

“Hmm. It was fine for a while. I liked finally having physicality. Suddenly, everyone _saw_ me. They paid attention. They listened when I spoke. That was... New. But EX was what I'd yearned for.”

“I'm glad it made you happy! Alphys is a great friend to have!” enthused Papyrus.

Mettaton didn't respond right away. He looked troubled.

“How happy am I, really...? The whole process wasn't as easy as I assumed it might be. Alphys... I hate to say this, but I _tormented_ Alphys when this body seemed like it was taking forever. When she was trying to help me, I ignored and belittled her. I was impatient, when I knew all along that she was torturing herself over her own problems. She could have easily-” Mettaton ended abruptly, unwilling to continue that train of thought. He stared at the road ahead in silence for a while and then continued vehemently, “I'm a nobody as a person. Just a forgettable ghost.”

“You're definitely somebody, Mettaton,” said Papyrus firmly.

Mettaton sighed and gave a wobbly smile to the stars. “Thanks, beautiful. You're somebody yourself.”

Papyrus took his hand off the shift and clasped the crook of Mettaton's arm. Mettaton looked down at it curiously.

To Papyrus' surprise, after a moment, Mettaton laughed and moved his arm. “You have a creepy, bony grip.”

The skeleton brought his hand back to the shift. “Sorry.”

“It's nothing. Anyway. Thanks for listening, darling,” drawled Mettaton, as if they had just discussed nothing of consequence. “I've been feeling like nobody understands lately and it's making me strange.” He fanned the fingers on one hand languidly one by one, before touching the corners of his eyes briefly. “So. Turn off when this next exit arrives. You're going to love this!”

 

They tried on clothes, and almost immediately it seemed like clocks had stopped for them, pausing the flow of time just so they could enjoy being with one another. Giddily grabbing things that appealed to them, or that they thought would be fun for each other to try on, they raced to be the one to emerge first from the dressing rooms. There were many parades to and fro, many spontaneous demonstrations of acting out how someone wearing any given outfit should behave, and, naturally, many fits of laughter.

The shopkeeper, a bored owl-like monster, occasionally took her enormous eyes from the catalogs she was perusing and blinked quizzically at the boisterous pair. Mettaton was a great customer, one who came to shop during these late hours regularly, so she supposed he could be allowed to have a bit of fun now. At least this nonsense enlivened the slow night.

At the conclusion of their spree, Mettaton paid for everything. He was pleased that Papyrus was such excellent company. The conversation they'd had in the car seemed like eons ago. “It's my treat. I haven't enjoyed myself so much in ages!” he declared to the skeleton, with a smile. “And by ages, _of course_ I mean since the last time we hung out.” They left with carefully selected outfits, ones they assured each other profusely were ravishing, precisely at closing.

 

As Papyrus ushered Mettaton back to his seat, Mettaton caressed Papyrus' jawbone teasingly. “You're so fun, gorgeous. I love it.”

Papyrus' teeth chattered. He hesitated a moment, then turned to make his way to the driver's side. He got in, put the key in the ignition, then stared ahead without starting the car. After a several seconds of circumspect thought, he turned to Mettaton, who was lounging comfortably. “Are you flirting with me? Really? Flirting? With? Me?”

“Is that a _crime_ , darling?”

“No,” said Papyrus, who sounded dubious on this point.

 _This is too fun_ , thought Mettaton. He bit his lip.

“I've been on a date before and it didn't really turn out so well,” said Papyrus mostly to himself, drumming his finger-bones on the steering wheel.

“Do you want me to be flirting with you? Would you like that?” said Mettaton curiously, with a tiny smile. He turned toward Papyrus so that his side was against the seat.

Papyrus turned the car on.

“Do you like me?” Mettaton, who now had a particular goal in mind, insisted. He felt a stab of guilt. Papyrus was a lovely person. He, on the other hand, was terrible.

“Of course I like you,” said Papyrus immediately. He began driving.

 _God knows why_ , thought Mettaton, _I just told him nearly every awful truth about myself earlier and now I am plotting,_ yes _plotting_ \- _Does he even know what I'm asking? Horrible. I am going to_ ruin _him_. _I don't care._ _I_ want _to ruin him. His brother is going to kill me...._

When they were back on the highway, Mettaton took a deep breath before beginning. He placed his gloved hand gently on top of the hand Papyrus had on the shift.

“Look, I had a really wonderful evening tonight, Papyrus.”

“So did I!” Papyrus sneaked a glance at him after ensuring that the highway was completely deserted. “But gosh, you make me feel funny.”

“How so? Describe,” wondered Mettaton, intensely interested. _He's so... innocent_.

“Like... I don't want to take you home right now. Like I want something? I don't know? Maybe... Like I do want to date you?”

“We can make this a date retroactively,” proposed Mettaton.

“Can you?! I need to check the rules on that-”

“Screw the rules!” Mettaton howled, laughing. “Wait, WHAT rules? What are we talking about?”

“Uh...”

“You know what? Take me home, and you can come up to my apartment, and I'll make you tea or cocoa or whatever I have on hand for normal monsters. You're a riot.”

“Sure, that'd be nice!” replied Papyrus, with no guile whatsoever.

 _Let the ruining commence_ , thought Mettaton.


	3. To the Bedroom

“ _Wait._ Is there a blatantly correct choice?”

Mettaton shrugged, confused. The floral arrangement looked quite stunning in the center of his dining room table. From where he stood, he could barely see through it to where Papyrus sat. “I have tea or cocoa, like I said.”

“But are you going to destroy the table if I don't select the right one?” Papyrus asked, genuinely worried. “Or do the right thing?”

“Uh, no?” The robot shifted on his feet. “Unless I lie seductively upon it and it can't support my weight. But that is unlikely. Because I've already tried while rehearsing a few days ago. It's rather solid.”

“I'll have... Cocoa?” ventured Papyrus.

Mettaton smiled gently at the flowers and uncrossed his arms. He stepped back through the archway into the kitchen. After a moment, he called out, “Do you like marshmallows? A fan gave me some in a gift basket for some reason. When I fed a few to Burgerpants, he didn't die, so I think they're not poisonous.”

“Yes! No! Yes!”

“Mmm, one or two?”

“One! No two! No _one_. NO, wait-!”

Mettaton poked his head back into the dining room. “Sweetheart, what the actual fuck is going on with you?”

“I'm afraid to fail at dating now that we are retroactively dating!” wailed Papyrus, from beyond the flowers.

Mettaton marched over, bent down, and wrapped his arms around Papyrus from behind the chair. “Darling,” he cooed, “You are fine. This is a decision of no consequence.” He rested his chin lightly on Papyrus' shoulder. “Now please just tell me what you, Papyrus, want,” he continued, beginning to sound ever-so-slightly exasperated, “before I tear out all of my beautiful hair.”

“Uhhhhh,” creaked Papyrus, sounding not unlike a rusty hinge. _Being this close to Mettaton..._ It made him more nervous than he'd imagined it would.

Yet... Mettaton's cheek was warm where it brushed against Papyrus' mandible, that was nice, and his arms were secure, that sure did clear up those nagging questions about the quality of robot-hugs...

“Can I have three?” asked Papyrus meekly.

“You most certainly may,” said Mettaton. He began to straighten up. He paused.

Mettaton pressed his lips to Papyrus' cheekbone. He turned and took a few steps away, stopping to touch a vivid orange _Heliconia psittacorum_ bloom.

He waited, but Papyrus said nothing.

Mettaton continued onward without a backward glance, returning to the kitchen.

Papyrus remained frozen in place. It seemed to take minutes for his mind to start working properly again.

 _Is it wrong to feel like this?_ he wondered. Maybe such a gesture was nothing special. Maybe Mettaton was that affectionate with everyone. Maybe he'd think it was really, _really_ weird that excitement coursed through Papyrus when Mettaton was particularly close. Was it possible that Mettaton felt similarly right now? _Is that why he did that?_ Mettaton had proposed that they continue to spend time together this evening...

_Time..._

“Oh, no!” Papyrus said, realizing it was well past the time he'd assumed he would be home by. “I should call Sans.”

“Please do,” Mettaton replied placidly from the other room.

When Sans didn't pick up, Papyrus left a message, stating that he was with Mettaton, and that Sans shouldn't worry because he'd be home very late; he was having so much fun with his new friend.

“He's probably asleep on the couch,” said Papyrus, after hanging up. “When I come home late, sometimes I carry him to his bed. Ridiculous!”

“What a good brother you are,” said Mettaton, coming back into the dining room. He set cocoa on a coaster in front of Papyrus. “Careful, very hot. Had some milk, so cooked that on the stove. Three marshmallows.”

“It looks delicious.” Papyrus took a sip of his drink. “It _is_ delicious. Ouch!” He put the mug back down quickly. There was a moment of silence. “Thank you. So... Mettaton! Why are you such a good cook when you can't even eat? Huh, I guess you did have a cooking show; that must have helped. Did you learn from doing that? Sans cooks most of the time at home and he usually makes edible food and he never even tries. Sans doesn't have to _try_ to do anything, but things always work out for him. I don't think that's fair, do you? I don't. Or maybe he just doesn't care about the outcome, so it's never an issue. Hmph.”

When Papyrus looked up from the mug, he saw that Mettaton was sitting slumped forward in the chair around the corner, gazing at Papyrus. The robot had his elbow on the table, his head propped on one hand.

“You're not going to prattle on about asparagus and packing your brother's lunch, are you?” drawled Mettaton. “While we're doing it?”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind. Some anime Alphys and Undyne were watching. Forget it.” He brushed his hair off of his face. It fell right back down again. _If he hasn't got a clue,_ Mettaton reflected, _why should he be nervous?_ “I mean to say that you're being really anxious and it's driving me crazy, gorgeous.”

“I can't help it!” cried Papyrus. “Feelings are blossoming! This didn't happen before!”

Mettaton gave his friend a small smile. Now they were getting somewhere. “What kind of feelings?”

Papyrus hesitated. “Well. Peculiar feelings.” Some disjointed images were coming to mind, brief phantom moments that made little sense in isolation, but they seemed like thoughts best kept to one's self. “Intimate feelings,” he settled upon.

The robot straightened his spine. His smile turned into a puckish grin. “Ah ha.” He stretched his arms out straight briefly, wrists flexed, on the table before him. “Well well welly _well_. So that's the issue at hand.” Mettaton stood. “I think... I can put you at ease, if you bear with me.” He beckoned Papyrus to follow him.

They passed through the living room and went down a dark hallway. The robot didn't bother with the light switches as they passed. Somehow, disappearing into shadow was a small comfort to Papyrus...

The two monsters passed a door on the left, and then one on the right. Finally they reached the door directly ahead, at the end of the hallway.

They stopped.

Mettaton, penumbral in the gloom, turned. “Papyrus,” the robot said. “You can end the date at any time if it's too much right now. But I'd like to have some fun with you.” He placed a hand lightly on Papyrus' chest. “Intimately.”

Unbeknownst to Mettaton, his hand rested precisely where, inside, past clothing and ribs, Papyrus' soul hovered.

Papyrus felt a jolt that made him gasp. “I want to stay,” he managed.

“Good,” said Mettaton. “I want you to stay.” He took his hand away, so that he could turn the key in the mortice lock, then the doorknob.

 

It was less dark in Mettaton's bedroom. Faint splashes of orange, rose, and yellow from outside lights dyed the white walls.

Papyrus took a few steps into the room. There was a lot of space, even above. He glanced up. Doing so inspired a moment of contemplative wonder; the dining room, the living room, and the hallway had had high dropped ceilings, but this room opened up all the way to the vault of the roof.

Papyrus wandered forward to a glass door, which provided access to the balcony, and pulled aside a sheer curtain. It was possible to discern Mount Ebott's silhouette against the murky sky. Beyond the outdoor railing, he could see many shorter buildings, the lights of traffic in the street below, the edge of a dark park.

He stepped back. There were several paintings on the walls, some with lurid colors springing out from black depths of oil or acrylic. Papyrus studied one he could most easily see. A blurred, skeletal figure with a gaping mouth hung suspended in an ambiguous, shadowy abyss. Papyrus felt right at home with this one. The next canvas depicted a sensual creature composed of hard muscles, tubes, and metal curled up upon itself. He scratched his chin. _Hmm._ That one was fine by him, too.

He headed left. There was a claw-foot tub, on a low schist platform. Then, a corner. He passed the open door to a bathroom. A nook with a window, beyond where the bathroom wall ended, with several floor pillows.

Along the next wall, a potted palm. A bureau. Then the door they had just come through, Mettaton standing still before it. A shelf of books, and what looked like hundreds of diaries. A vanity with a chaotic mess of makeup, colored markers, pens, glues, and machine lubricants. A side table. The door to a walk-in closet.

An upright piano sat against the next wall, with manuscript books in stacks on top. A box full of previously opened letters. A box on the floor labeled in familiar pink handwriting, “ **Things that fall out of me (for Alphys)** ,” mercifully empty. A box on the floor labeled in orange handwriting, “ **Spare parts for self-repair (for Mettaton)** ,” with multiples of several parts inside. A stereo, a phonograph. Shelving holding many records. Above, a shiny set of the band's albums, a couple of favorite tour posters, a few press photos, in frames on the wall.

Finally, Papyrus was back to the wall with the balcony, farther down from where he'd started. Another potted palm. A nightstand. The last thing in his path was a bed, dressed with lovely white bedding, decorated with pink and white pillows.

 

When the skeleton had navigated around the bed, Mettaton finally moved, stepping slowly, stopping very close, facing his friend. He gazed down at Papyrus. “I thought perhaps,” said Mettaton with a trace of a smirk, “We could best relax in here.” Papyrus had worn a shirt with a tie that evening, and Mettaton took the opportunity to gently loosen the knot of the tie.

Papyrus held still.

The robot unbuttoned the shirt's collar.

Papyrus hiccuped.

Mettaton laughed and turned away. He meandered over to the bathtub, stepped into it, and sat down.

Papyrus exhaled softly through his teeth. To avoid feeling hopelessly overwhelmed, he started walking around again. He finished his drink as he circled the room, glancing at Mettaton when he thought he could do so without notice. Mettaton was now rinsing off the bottom of his boots. That made sense to do if he walked everywhere in them and couldn't really take them off... _Or could he?_ Papyrus had no idea. The robot ( _not really a robot_ ) had a strong but fluid way of moving, even when performing some small task. Papyrus pulled the knot at his neck the rest of the way until it unraveled. _Boy... Is it hot in here... Or is it just me?_ In passing, he hung the tie over the back of the vanity chair.

Mettaton was done, but he made no move to get up. He instead lounged back, staring at Papyrus, who had come back around once again.

Papyrus halted when he realized that all of the robot's attention was on him. He started to open his jaw... Then realized he had no idea what he had intended to say.

Mettaton cocked his head, amused. A corner of his mouth crooked up. “You want me.”

“Want you...?” said Papyrus, guiltily studying the curve of the bathtub directly beside the robot.

“Do you like the way I look?”

“You're very sexy.”

“Do you know what that means?” Mettaton said, mischievously. “I don't think you do, darling.” The robot was quiet for a moment. He didn't take his eyes from the skeleton. “I think you feel it though. _Don't you?_ ”

Papyrus, reminding himself to be brave, looked at his friend.

“Did you like it when I kissed you?” wondered Mettaton.

“Yeah...” said Papyrus.

Mettaton laughed. He tilted his head the other way, and the city light reflected a pink glow in the robot's pupils. He looked alien, unpredictable.“Do you want me to do other things that perhaps you might like?”

Papyrus' molars clattered against each other. _How to respond?_

Mettaton— masculine and beautiful, monster and machine, laying carelessly in the cradle of ceramic, eyes betraying an alarming intensity— should have been intimidating. Papyrus, who had been trying to figure out how he felt and had been failing at coming up with a concise answer, concluded right then that he was not exactly frightened. The realization made him feel a bit better. He was just apprehensive about how to proceed. The robot was a still shadow in the tub, a darkness he wanted to approach, to reach into. But he couldn't very well do that... He wanted to... But...

“Do you need me to tell you what to do?” Mettaton asked finally, sensing that Papyrus was at a loss.

“Yes,” said Papyrus sheepishly.

“That's fine. Put the cup in the kitchen sink,” Mettaton suggested. “Then come back and go to bed with me.”

“Okay,” said Papyrus, sounding so subdued that Mettaton felt, unexpectedly, ripped apart.

 

Papyrus left. Obediently.

Mettaton watched him go. He pulled himself up. He stepped out of the tub. He stood swaying on his heels for a moment.

Then he darted over to the bed, planted his face down in one of his fluffiest pillows, and shrieked with all the air available to him.

He pushed himself back up slowly. He lifted his head.

 _What_ are _you doing?_

He cared for Papyrus. And he hated it.

 

When Papyrus returned, Mettaton was sitting on his bed with his legs tucked to one side. He had taken off his pointed pauldrons.

Papyrus sat down beside the robot. Everything was overwhelming when he looked closely, even in this limited lighting, at Mettaton, but he willed himself to do it.

For an instant, the robot's face was a pensive mask. After sideways glance at Papyrus, however, Mettaton was smiling again.

Papyrus wrapped his arms around his friend. The inside of his skull was abuzz with agitation, but if Mettaton was somewhat worried too, Papyrus absolutely would not pass up this opportunity to reassure him. He gently pulled Mettaton a bit farther onto the bed, and he brought his own legs up onto the mattress so that he could rest the robot's back against his chest.

Mettaton obligingly sank back into him. His fragile expression had crumbled.

Papyrus encircled Mettaton's arms with his hands.

“Oh,” said Papyrus suddenly. “Are my fingers creepy and bony?”

“God, no,” breathed Mettaton. “I was being an asshole.”

“Oh.” Papyrus rested his cheekbone against the back of Mettaton's head. The robot's hair was thick and surprisingly soft.

Mettaton tilted his head back against Papyrus' shoulder. The skeleton was somehow more solid feeling than he appeared to be. And yet less rigid. Springy with magic, maybe.

They remained like that for a while.

Mettaton sighed. He thought that Papyrus smelled like snow and cotton. Papyrus decided that Mettaton smelled like Mettaton.

“Are you alright?” asked Papyrus eventually.

Mettaton snorted. “ _Me._ Am _I_ alright?” Under his breath, he hissed, “ _Really._ ” He took Papyrus' hands off of him and held them fast in his. “Darling. I'm not as depraved as I seem to be.”

“Huh? I don't think you're-”

“Perhaps it's more that I'm not as depraved as I think myself to be. _Usually._ At any rate, my dear— if I wanted you to do something, anything, and you didn't want to, you'd tell me, right?”

“What would I not want you to do?”

“You'd tell me, right?”

“Yes?”

Mettaton repositioned his grip and dragged Papyrus' fingers down his arms, until Papyrus moved them of his own accord, figuring out what Mettaton wanted. Mettaton took his hands away.

“Mmmhmm,” said Mettaton, finally answering the question from earlier. “I'm fine. Just losing my nerve, maybe. I want you so badly, but you don't even... I just want us to be happy with each other. Somehow I get the sense that...” Mettaton breathed a hum of deliberation. “Darling. Important question time,” he said abruptly. “Do you have any idea what people usually do when they have sex?”

The skeleton's hands paused a second, then continued on their way.

“Do you?” Papyrus bantered.

Mettaton laughed. “Oh my god. Uh, _yes_.”

“Ah _ha_!” said Papyrus, accusingly playful.

“Answer my question,” said Mettaton, squeezing the bridge of his metal nose. “Please.”

“Ahh, I came across a few references. Reading certain things about dating. I developed some idea.” And then, slightly annoyed, Papyrus muttered, “No thanks to Sans.”

“Hmm. Interesting...”

“It's a little confusing to me, but maybe I'm starting to understand... The part about wanting... I should have done more research into the specifics, but I didn't think that...” Papyrus stroked Mettaton's back, his phalanges clicking softly over metal joints. “What do we have to do?”

“We don't _have_ to do anything, darling. We can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. I want to try,” said Papyrus, suddenly decisive.

Mettaton lifted his head. “You do?” He turned toward the skeleton, and smiled a little smile.

“I want to be close to you and I want to make you happy.”

Mettaton studied Papyrus' bony visage. “Do you know how to make me happy?”

“Not really!” admitted Papyrus, his usual spirit returning, “But if you know what you're doing, we're fine, right?”

Mettaton raised an eyebrow. “Famous last words.”

“Whatever!” exclaimed Papyrus blithely. “I trust you!”

“Oh, darling,” Mettaton giggled. “That is very, _very_ ill-advised.”

“Nyeh heh heh, I am very persistent! I will figure things out!”

“I'm _sure_ you can figure things out,” said Mettaton. The horrible, torn feeling inside of him was muffled now, as his voice had been muffled by the pillow. “You like puzzles, don't you? Solve this one. But, maybe you need some hints to start?”

 

Mettaton twisted and folded his legs underneath him. He rose on his knees to kiss Papyrus's jaw, touching the same side he'd touched earlier. This time, he lingered.

Papyrus was still. But this time, he didn't feel so stuck in position. His chest was fluttering terribly, but that was somehow enjoyable now that they had some understanding between the two of them. He placed his hands, gradually, on Mettaton's lower back.

“At some point this evening,” confessed Mettaton, the tip of his nose brushing bone, “I started imagining you being here like this.”

“I-” began Papyrus, but Mettaton's arms slithered around the skeleton's torso, and Papyrus was pulled down before he could say anything further. Papyrus fell on hands and knees over Mettaton, who stretched out to full length below him.

A bright sliver of moonlight, shaped by the angle of a window, partially illuminated the robot's face. Papyrus ran his fingers down Mettaton's cheek, entranced by the deepness of his eyes. His irises were not thoroughly black, upon close inspection, but a very dark burnt umber.

“Did you pick exactly how you wanted to look?” asked Papyrus.

“Uh huh, pretty much,” said Mettaton. “Alphys drew sketches, and I was beside her, telling her what I wanted.”

“I always thought you looked quite delightful,” said Papyrus shyly.

Mettaton grinned in response. He heard compliments often. Hearing them never got old.

Papyrus made the tips of his fingers glance across the side of Mettaton's face, the way he might do to himself, idly across his bones, to cause a shivery tingle. He traced the edges of curves of Mettaton's metal ear. Brief expressions flitted across Mettaton's face. “Do you feel things the same way I do?”

“Hmm. Hard to say for sure, isn't it?” Mettaton guided the skeleton's hand down his neck. He winked. “Why don't you touch me more, and we'll find out?”

Papyrus stroked Mettaton's neck, and then chest, and watched him stretch when something felt good. Papyrus had never touched someone else like this before— he still almost felt like he was doing something he shouldn't be doing, regardless of Mettaton's encouragement. Fortunately, Mettaton seemed to absolutely luxuriate in _being_ touched. Papyrus had thought that Mettaton was handsome before, but the robot seemed so pleased now... It made Papyrus feel very strange, indeed.

Mettaton met his gaze directly after a while. He carefully studied Papyrus' features. “You're kind of cute,” he concluded.

“ _I_ am?” said Papyrus, flustered. _Someone_ this _attractive thinks I'm cute?_ He narrowed his eyesockets. “What do you mean, 'kind of?'”

Mettaton laughed. “Okay, forget that part. I suppose it's just funny that a skeleton can be nice to look at.” He slid his thumb down the side of Papyrus' skull. “But you are.” He let his arm fall back to the bed. “Mmm, you're adorable _and_ you'll take your time with everything, because you're unsure of what you're doing... That's even better.” He tugged one of Papyrus' wrists briefly to indicate he wanted Papyrus to move lower, and then let his hand come away again, to allow Papyrus freedom. It was more fun at this juncture that way. “Keep exploring, darling.”

 

When Papyrus reached the robot's midsection, Mettaton shuddered. _It must be because his soul is under there_ , thought Papyrus. _It's like when he touched my chest_... He knew that the sensation had been a surprising but good one for him, so he caressed Mettaton's thin waist as the figure beneath him writhed. He experimented higher and lower with soft touches. The robot seemed most responsive at the center of his abdomen, where there was a visible pink heart. As Papyrus dragged his fingers harder against the heart, Mettaton moaned happily.

Impulsively, Mettaton wrapped his legs around the skeleton, pulling him close. Papyrus squawked. The robot chuckled, hooked a couple of fingers through Papyrus' ribs, and rocked his hips slowly against Papyrus.

Papyrus looked down curiously, feeling a strange thrill merely seeing Mettaton move against him. It also felt progressively better as time went on, gradually building into delicious tension. He let that continue for a while, reciprocating with motion, but allowing Mettaton to lead from beneath him. And then Papyrus pushed his hand further down, gingerly, into the tight space between their lower bodies.

“Ooo. _Good boy_ ,” whispered Mettaton.

There was something Papyrus could feel lower, at Mettaton's loins that caused Mettaton to bite his lip when Papyrus touched it. The skeleton determined, with some trial and error, if he sort of pressed with his palm, moving along this feature, that he could make Mettaton gasp. Which, needless to say, was a lot of fun.

“Well done. That's what I want right now,” breathed Mettaton. “Hold on.” He pulled Papyrus' face to his and kissed the skeleton's smile as he wiggled his hips to pull his leggings down. “Okay, there.” Papyrus tried to look down, but Mettaton caught his chin. “No. Come closer.” He guided Papyrus back on top of him and maneuvered Papyrus' pelvis where he wanted. Mettaton smiled and completely unbuttoned Papyrus' shirt.

“What can we do for you now?”

“But I want to figure out the solution to making you happy!” scolded Papyrus. “You're distracting me!”

Mettaton laughed and flung the shirt across the room. “All in good time. You need some distraction now.”

 

The robot ran a finger down Papyrus' breastbone as Papyrus squirmed on top of him. He soon located the sensitive spot on the left side of Papyrus's ribs, above his soul, and teased the area with fingertips until Papyrus was breathing hard. “Well, aren't you fun to play with?” said Mettaton, amused at how responsive Papyrus was to having different bones stroked.

Papyrus panted. “What are you doing to me?”

“Do you touch yourself when you're alone?” asked Mettaton with affected innocence, rubbing Papyrus' lumbar spine from the inside with a gloved palm.

“I guess so... It's a little different when you do it.”

“What do you touch?”

“Depends on what feels good.”

“Does it change?”

“It can.”

“And what happens? When you do it for a while?”

“An overwhelming sensation...”

Mettaton pulled Papyrus' zipper apart, and slid Papyrus' pants down below Papyrus' hips. He felt around. Seemed just to be a pelvis. He wasn't sure what he had expected anyway. Papyrus made soft noises when Mettaton caressed the lower parts of his pelvis. _Splendid._ Mettaton removed the pants entirely and pitched them in the general direction of the shirt. He reached for lubricant in his bedside table drawer while continuing to rub where the skeleton was sensitive.

“Do you think I can make that happen for you?” Mettaton asked, rather unnecessarily because Papyrus was twitching in a way that probably indicated the eventual answer to that question.

“Ahhh... I am quite confident,” replied Papyrus, breathing hard, “that you can...”

Mettaton rolled them over so that they were both on their sides and touched Papyrus, keeping him distracted. The robot pulled one glove off with his teeth, and then coated his erection in lube. He then placed Papyrus' hand on his cock.

“What am I touching?” asked Papyrus.

“A penis.”

“Oh. Should I be touching that?”

“Definitely,” assured Mettaton. He bit a knuckle, hard, to prevent himself from laughing. “If you want to make me come.”

Papyrus was too out of breath to further question anything. Mettaton kept his hand lightly atop the skeleton's and taught him, wordlessly, how to best approach the task. Papyrus followed Mettaton's guidance. When he had the hang of it, Mettaton slipped his hand off Papyrus' and insinuated his fingers between the bones of Papyrus' forearm. He applied more pressure with the still-gloved hand that had been continually touching Papyrus all along.

Papyrus wiggled, then cried out and pulled Mettaton close, helplessly thrusting against his hand.

This excited Mettaton greatly. “I did it, darling, didn't I?” he whispered.

Papyrus just nodded.

Mettaton kissed the side of Papyrus' skull again and again. “You can make me feel like that too, sweetheart.”

“Can I?” said Papyrus.

“Do it. Concentrate on it for me.”

Papyrus forced himself to clear his mind. He wanted very much to make that happen for Mettaton. He backed up a little from the robot, and he redoubled his efforts.

Mettaton tensed up suddenly and pulled on Papyrus' arm. “Wait wait wait.” He rolled onto his back, propping himself up the slightest amount, with his weight on an elbow. “I want to be like this or else I'll make a mess of you and everything else. Now go ahead.” He closed his eyes. “Harder with your thumb there— _yes, yes..._ ”

Mettaton grabbed the skeleton's shoulder blade, pulling Papyrus slightly toward him. He arched his back and exhaled raggedly as he came. Spurts of sparkling liquid splashed against his chest and then his stomach.

When Mettaton opened his eyes, he had to chuckle at Papyrus' mildly baffled expression. He coaxed Papyrus farther down, so that he could kiss his forehead. “I guess we figured each other out, beautiful,” Mettaton sighed.

 

***

 

Papyrus was starting to feel surreal, the way he'd get if he'd been awake for too long.

Having a celebrity, one he'd always admired, curled up against him, resting his head on his sternum, was not helping matters.

Mettaton's hair was, in places, falling through Papyrus' ribs. It tickled Papyrus if either of them moved the slightest amount, but the skeleton didn't mind at all. The sensation reassured him that the current moment was quite real. He stroked the back of his fingers against the star's black locks.

“Is this what people who are dating always do together?” asked Papyrus.

“Often,” Mettaton replied. “In some form or other. I guess you don't _have_ to, but-”

“Do they usually get liquidy, silvery glitter on themselves like that?”

“Ha ha, no. I get to choose whatever I want for that, and I thought that might be pretty for today. Did you find it entertaining, my dear?”

“Yes!”

“Mmm, you _are_ cute.” Mettaton brushed his lips against Papyrus' breastbone, before sitting up. “Do you feel satisfied now?”

“I feel relieved and less tense, but I have so many questions-”

The robot collapsed limply to the mattress beside Papyrus. “I hate to leave you hanging,” he said, “But I'm going to lose power. We were out and about for a while. And then the strain on one's battery from partaking in carnal pleasures...” Mettaton studied Papyrus. “However. You're all right, aren't you?”

Papyrus had, naturally, a permanent smile of sorts, but his cheekbones lifted, and his eyesockets angled joyfully. “Of course. That was fun! I like being with you.”

Mettaton grinned. “I'm glad.”

“And did I make you happy?”

“Yeah. You certainly did,” said Mettaton. “Could you please take this and plug me in? There's an outlet behind the nightstand.” Mettaton closed his eyes. “I need to go to sleep, and probably you do too. I'll make you something to eat in the morning, we can talk as much as you'd like, and then you should go home so your brother doesn't worry too much.”

“Can we do that again sometime soon?”

Mettaton opened his eyes with effort. He was more exhausted than he'd thought. “I'd like that.”

With that said, he lost consciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued...
> 
> http://motmotfluttersforth.tumblr.com/
> 
> (Much thanks to Mz_Mallow for proofreading!)


End file.
